He had spoken civilly up to now, as one grown man negotiating with another, but now he glared and wagged a lean finger at me. ‘The Queen may have ridden this storm, Shardlake, but do not be too confident all will go the reformers’ way from now on. I offer cooperation on a specific issue, for a limited time. Tell that to your masters, and please remember when you speak to me in future that I am a Privy Councillor.’ He frowned. Rich had lost his composure with me and I could see he regretted it. I thought, when he said the reformers should not be too confident he can only have been referring to whatever new plot the traditionalists were hatching, the one Lord Parr said was afoot. The one plot in which Bertano – whoever he was – might be involved. But I dared not mention that.

I stood, making an ironic little bow. ‘How do I get back in touch with you?’

‘A note to this house will reach me. Stice will stay here for now, though he thinks the place beneath him.’

‘One last thing, Sir Richard. You know that Stephen Bealknap is dead.’

‘Yes. I am his executor.’

‘His plans to have a monument erected to himself have been refused by Lincoln’s Inn.’

He shrugged. ‘I heard.’

‘Sir Richard, did you ask Bealknap to try and get into my good graces? Last autumn?’

Rich looked genuinely puzzled. ‘Why would I do that? Besides, I had ceased instructing Bealknap by then. His health was starting to become unreliable.’

I looked at him. He had appeared genuinely surprised. Whatever Bealknap had been doing, it did not seem to have involved Rich. Then again, Rich was a consummate liar.

‘Reply to me tomorrow, please, Master Shardlake, we do not have much time.’ He stood in turn. ‘Now, you can go and collect that rogue Barak, and that long streak of piss, and get out.’

STICE AND GOWER stood by as the three of us left the house. I knew that for Nicholas, and probably Barak, to leave thus meekly must feel like a defeat. I must get to Whitehall, I thought.

We walked along Thames Street, the city deserted after curfew. Windows were open this warm night, squares of candlelight flickering in the dark. A berobed city official walked past, his way along the dusty street lit by link-boys carrying torches.

‘That constable must have been offered a large bribe,’ Barak said angrily. ‘One that only someone like Rich could afford. Christ’s bowels, if I ever find myself alone with that Stice I’ll have his balls. He has a scoffing wit. He told me Lord Rich told him I once worked for Lord Cromwell; he asked was it true Cromwell picked all his men off the streets, instead of using proper gentlemen.’

‘And that other churl,’ Nicholas said, ‘his wits are awry. Some of the things he said – ’